Friendly Foal (2 page)

“Sal? What's Geri doing at your house?”

“I can't understand you, Winnie.”

No wonder. There was a lot of commotion going on in the background at Sal's house, and Sal wasn't so easy to understand either. But I knew my voice wasn't helping. I always sound hoarse. Lizzy says it's exotic and she wishes she had my voice, but I think my words sound like they're filtered through gravel.

I cleared my throat, for all the good it would do me, and asked again why Geri was at Sal's.

“Nathan,” Sal answered.

“Nathan?” Sal's brother is in sixth grade, like Lizzy and Geri. I'd only seen him a couple of times, but I could picture him. The first time I'd seen Nathan and Lizzy had introduced him as her buddy, Nate, I'd had to fight to keep from laughing. Sal's pretty out-there, with her wild jewelry and ever-changing hair colors. I'd expected her little brother to have tattoos and a shaved head. But Nathan looked like a regular kid—short dark hair, normal clothes, just a little on the chunky side.

Now I glanced at Lizzy. She looked as confused as I felt.

“If you ask me,” Sal said, “Geri's got a king-size crush. And I don't think Nathan even knows what's up. Guys.” The phone clanked again. Then Sal shouted, “Keep your socks on, Gram! I'm coming!” This was followed by so much noise on the other end of the line that I had to hold the phone away from my ear to keep from going deaf.

The phone rattled again, and Sal shouted, “Winnie, I'm coming right over!”

“You are?” The last time—the
only
time—Sal had come over, she'd acted like our entire house should have been condemned. She'd made her escape as fast as she could.

“Gram and I have a job for you. For Christmas she—” There was shuffling, then a
bang
, as if she'd dropped the phone. “All right! All right! I said I'm coming!” More shuffling, and Sal was back on the line. “Don't go anywhere! Stay right where you are! I'll explain everything when I get there. I need you desperately, Winnie Willis!”

I hung up the phone and tried to imagine why Sal would ever need me. What kind of job could she and her grandmother possibly have for me? It's no secret that Dad, Lizzy, and I are barely getting by. Dad used to be a big insurance boss in Laramie, Wyoming. But in Ashland, he's just Odd-Job Willis, a not-so-great handyman and part-time inventor.

Maybe Sal thought
I
was Junior Miss Odd-Job Willis. Maybe she wanted me to shovel walks. Do her laundry. Clean her room.

The oven door slammed shut. Lizzy set the timer, which Dad had rewired to make it moo like a cow when it went off. Just another example of his helpful inventions.

“Did Geri say if she's still coming over?” Lizzy asked.

I shook my head. “Sal is, though. She claims she has a job for me.” I watched Lizzy shove her hair back into a ponytail that looked tons better than my hair does after I've really worked on it.

“Did you know Geri and Sal's brother were . . .
together
?” I began. “I mean, last time I heard Sal mention Nathan, she said he couldn't stop talking about the donut squares you brought in for Geri's birthday and the Valentine sandwiches you made for everybody when it wasn't even Valentine's Day.”

Lizzy grinned. “Nate loves to eat, all right.” She glanced at the tray of green salamander cookies cooling on the counter. “So Geri didn't say if she's still coming? I made a lot of cookies. I'm calling them Salamander Mint. Maybe Madeline and Mason will come over and help us eat them.”

“Or you could take Madeline a doggie bag . . . a
salamander
bag?” I suggested.

Madeline Edison is Dad's
friend.
She's an inventor too. She's pretty weird, although Dad seems to like her.

“Winnie,” Lizzy scolded, “I think Madeline is really trying to fit in. I know you
love
having Mason around. Besides, shouldn't he be helping you take care of that baby horse?”

“True,” I admitted.

Madeline's son, Mason, has a condition, like autism, that makes him disappear inside himself sometimes, like he's not even there. I kind of envy that. It's what I feel like doing myself at least once a day. Only if
I
disappear, I'm taking Nickers with me.

I did want Mason to get used to the foal, and vice versa. But the foal wasn't even used to me yet. And I'm not always sure what Mason's going to do. Once I saw him close his eyes in the middle of watching cartoons. And for the next three minutes he screamed louder and louder. Then he just stopped and went back to the cartoon show.

Lizzy smiled at me, with the deep smile that reminds me of our mom. “You know, Winnie, giving that foal to Mason was about the nicest thing I've ever seen anybody do. I wish I had a picture of his face when you told him the foal was his.”

Lizzy crumbled something into the lizard condo dad had invented for her collection. Larry the Lizard stuck out his snout and gobbled up whatever Lizzy had dropped in.

“So what did you name the baby horse?” Lizzy asked.

“I haven't yet. I want Mason to name her.”

Back in Wyoming Mom and I had worked out a system of dubbing horses with temporary names. That way it wouldn't be so hard on us when the horses went back to their owners. It hadn't worked, though. We were always sad to see any horse leave.

Still, I'd fallen into the same naming game since I'd become Winnie the Horse Gentler. First there was my Nickers, who used to be called Wild Thing. Then there was Grant's horse, Eager Star. Then Bold Beauty and Midnight Mystery. I used to call Towaco, Hawk's Appaloosa, Unhappy Appy. Before Gracie had her foal, I'd dubbed her Gift Horse.

And in my head I'd already found a fake name for the foal: Friendly Foal.

The timer
moo
ed, and Lizzy pulled out the pan of cookies.

She'd gone to so much work for Geri. “I can't believe Geri's doing this to you, Lizzy.”

Lizzy smiled over at me as she poked a salamander to see if he was done. “You mean not coming over?” She set the cookie sheet on a dish towel. “Well, she should have called. But I'm not so surprised that she's over there with Nate. I kind of thought Geri had a crush on him, even though she claimed she didn't.”

If I'd been Lizzy, I would have been fighting mad. I guess I got the freckles
and
the temper.

I checked out the kitchen clock. “Sal should have been here by now. What kind of a job do you think she's talking about, Lizzy?”

Lizzy was pulling things out of the fridge. “Didn't you ask her?”

“Kind of.” I tried to remember what Sal had said exactly. Unfortunately, I don't have a
phonographic
memory. I couldn't replay the conversation. “But I'll tell you one thing. I'm not doing anything stupid for her. I wouldn't put it past Summer to put Sal up to this. She'll probably want me to shine her shoes or clean under her bed.”

I thought about the first time Summer's dad, Spider Spidell, hired Odd-Job Willis to fix some broken halters for the horses in his fancy Stable-Mart. Nothing pleased him. Dad had to redo those halters four times, and Mr. Spidell still complained.

“Help Winnie calm down and know what you want her to do about Sal,” Lizzy said. She looked like she was talking to one of the doughy salamanders, but she was talking to God. She prays as easily as a Tennessee Walking Horse walks.

I still hadn't taken off my barn coat, and my back was starting to sweat. “I better go out to the barn and wait. If Sal comes to the house, send her out, okay?”

“Sweet,” Lizzy said. She wrapped a salamander in a napkin and handed him to me.

It smelled minty. We still had our Christmas tree up, but it didn't smell as evergreen minty as the salamander cookie.

“Thanks, Lizzy.” I headed for the door. “Don't forget to send Sal!”

In the barn, I waited for Sal.

And waited.

And waited.

I fed the foal almost 16 ounces of Annie's milk. But it was a struggle, probably worse because I was getting so irritated with Sal. And the more I thought about Geri hanging out with Nathan while my sister was waiting on
her
, the madder I got.

I almost had to wrestle the foal to keep her with me while she was bottle-nursing.

It was getting dark enough to turn on the barn light. I finished chores, mucked, raked, and checked supplies. I'd just about given up on Sal, when I heard the crunch of tires on snow, followed by the squeal of brakes.

I made it outside in time to see Sal leap from a bright red van as it pulled up behind our cattle truck.

“Over here, Sal!” I shouted, waving.

She turned and came jogging toward the barn. Sal was wearing a green quilted ski jacket and mittens the size of Georgia and Alabama. Black boots came to her knees, which was a good thing because she was wearing a miniskirt. Green fuzzy earmuffs couldn't hide the new purple stripe in her red hair. The stripe matched her eyeliner and the giant hoop earrings that dangled as she ran.

“What's up?” I hollered.

“I've got a job for you,” Sal said, blowing into her mittens.

I wondered if Summer Spidell could be hiding in the van, spying to see my expression when Sal asked me to dig for fishing worms or brush her teeth or whatever.

“I'm pretty busy with an orphan foal, Sal,” I said.

“Winnie! This is a
real
job.” She kept glancing back at the van like it was her getaway vehicle.

I couldn't see who was driving, but someone raced the engine. The van shook. Then the motor cut out, and a woman sprang out the driver's door. She had boots and a miniskirt like Sal's. Only her ski jacket was red. Red earmuffs covered short black hair.

“Is that your mom?” I asked, realizing that I'd never seen either of Sal's parents. Hawk had told me Sal's parents were divorced, but they both lived in Ashland.

“Graham Cracker.” Or at least that's what I thought Sal said. “She's my grandmother,
not
 my mother,” she explained. “Mom's maiden name was Cracker. So my grandmother is Gram Cracker.”

I couldn't believe the pretty woman tiptoeing toward us through the snow was anybody's grandmother. Her long earrings sparkled, and her lipstick matched her red coat.

“Wh-what's your
grandmother—”

“I don't have time for this, Winnie,” Sal interrupted, sounding as impatient as if
I'd
kept
her
waiting all afternoon. “Gram Cracker lives on the other end of town, County Road 1150. Both of my parents took off over Christmas, so I've been stuck at Gram's. This whole thing is
her
idea.”

“What whole thing?” I asked.

I think Sal might have been about to answer me when a giant
thump
sounded from the van. It shook again, as if pounded by ocean waves.

Gram Cracker yelled something I won't repeat. Then she hurried back to the van and disappeared inside it.